


reasons like seasons are constantly changing

by amanderjean



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst, Family Dynamics, Gratuitous use of metaphors, Multi, OT4, Shifting relationships twenty years into the thing, Their children are present but mostly in the background, implied polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-18 12:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanderjean/pseuds/amanderjean
Summary: The Earth turns at an even pace, the air warms and cools in a predictable rhythm, and sometimes you build your life towards something without noticing.





	reasons like seasons are constantly changing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loudspeakr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudspeakr/gifts).



> For my dearest Rennie, who is a kind, thoughtful, joyful dream of a person. I am so excited and honored to have had the change to write this for you, and I only hope that it brings you a portion of the delight you've brought to me. 
> 
> Beta'd by MythicallySnappy, pringlesaremydivision, and thegreyhenly, all of whom are incredible and brilliant, and helped turn an unclear lump of a concept into something with bite. 
> 
> The title is paraphrased from Me And The Moon by Something Corporate.

**Winter**

Rhett stomps his feet against the doormat, vainly attempting to clean his shoes of caked mud before entering the house. He straightens up, giving himself a moment before opening the door. He can see movement through the windows, the frosted glass and the slight fog of warmth obscuring the figures inside. He briefly glances heavenward, and takes in a sharp breath at the sight of the bright, full moon. It’s luminous in the winter sky, and Rhett pauses a moment to admire it. He breathes in deeply this time, holds the bracing cold air in his lungs before pushing open the door into a rush of heat.

“Oh good, the wine’s here!” The soft lilt of his wife’s voice carries from the kitchen, followed by a chorus of giggles. Rhett can’t help but smirk as he shrugs out of his coat, shifting the bag of bottles from one arm to the other. He gingerly hangs his coat on the coat rack in the corner, already loaded down with heavy winter garments, scarves and hats, boots and thick socks scattered across the floor. He can see Link’s earmuffs laying on the floor, looking suspiciously like they’ve been stepped on. Rhett picks them up and stuffs them into Link’s coat pocket.

He bypasses the doorway to the living room where five children of varying ages and sizes are strewn across the furniture, each of them acting like they own the damn place. He hears peals of laughter as Will Ferrell screams that Santa is coming, and a soft grin spreads on his face. The lights on the enormous Christmas tree in the corner casts a glow on the scene that even Rhett can admit is pretty damn picturesque.

He continues into the kitchen, where three equally high-spirited adults are gathered on stools around the kitchen island. Rhett hides the bag of spirits behind his back. “Bad news. Turns out you three already drank all the wine in California; I return empty-handed.”

This time it’s Christy who throws back her head in laughter, and scrambles up. “Come on, McLaughlin, stop holding out on us. Or honestly, fuck these two, you and me can share.” She scurries around him, attempting to pull the large paper bag out of his grasp.

He laughs deep in his chest, and twists around, passing it off to her mischievously. “You got it, Chris. Meet me at the car and we’re out of here.”

Jessie points her finger at him dramatically, nearly flinging herself onto the countertop. “Not a chance! If you’re running off with my husband, at least leave the booze! Me and Link will need to drown our sorrows.” She tilts precariously on her stool, but Link’s hand is quick on the thick of her thigh, steadying her. He leaves it there as she rights herself, raises his eyebrows in Rhett’s direction, winks in a manner he surely believes is coy. It looks mostly drunk. Rhett presses his lips together, unwilling to encourage him with a smile.

“All right, you utter lushes, relax. They didn’t have the Malbec you wanted, Chris, but I got another Chilean red? Does that work?”

Christy smiles up at him adoringly. “Perfect.” She smacks a kiss on his cheek and walks, suspiciously slow and careful, back to the counter. Link holds the bottle opener out to her, and she plants a long kiss on his cheek as well, before heading to the sink to rinse out her glass.

Rhett comes over to the island, taking each bottle out in turn. He sits on a stool immediately to Link’s right, pushed close enough that their thighs press together. Neither of them pulls away. He glances sidelong at Link, staring at his profile for a long moment. He’s four sheets to the wind, all three of them are, but Rhett loves the way it brings a looseness to Link’s body, the tension — only perceptible in its absence — melting away with each sip of chardonnay.

Link turns and catches Rhett’s eye, and a slow, warm grin curving up his jaw. “See something you like?” Rhett immediately rolls his eyes, but Link can surely see the flush of his cheeks, the pronounced movement of his neck as he swallows against a dry throat. Rhett shifts even closer to Link, bringing their hips flush. Link’s grin only grows.

“You hold down the fort while I was gone?” Rhett asks, looking across the island at Christy and Jessie taking a bit too long to open up the the newly acquired spirits. He hears Link scoff good-naturedly.

“As if I could control either of those women for any length of time. You know I’m just along for the ride here.” Rhett’s not sure why his heart picks up at that, but Christy catches his eye just as Link’s hand comes to rest on his own knee, his knuckles grazing Rhett’s thigh at the movement. The girls are sitting quite close themselves, Jessie’s head resting on Christy’s shoulder, Christy’s hand running gently through dark hair. Her eyes are playful, half-lidded with wine and who knows what else; Christmas spirit, probably. She’s merry and bright, and Rhett’s cheeks are most certainly flushed; the warmth of the kitchen clearly to blame.

“I know what you mean, man,” he says. Jessie passes a glass with a more-than-generous serving of white wine to Rhett, who promptly passes it to his left. Link’s fingers grasp his before he can pull his hand from the stem of the glass, and Rhett can feel the whole length of them. He doesn’t pull away. “Drink up.”

 

**Spring**

Christy takes a deep breath in and digs her toes a bit deeper into the sand. She shifts in the low beach chair, closing her eyes and adjusting the brim of her hat to keep the sun off her face. She thinks wistfully of the umbrella she forgot to grab in the helter-skelter of getting nine people into two cars at seven-thirty in the morning, and sighs. Even after years in California, it’s an adjustment to reconcile the fact that it’s barely April and she’s sitting on the beach in eighty-five degree heat. A light breeze blows, cooling the places where sweat has pooled, and in the early morning the coast is quiet, save for the joyful squawks of children and the low guffaws of two mostly grown men punctuating the rhythm of crashing waves.

It’s as idyllic a scene as she can imagine, and yet — some part of her itches, the uncomfortable phantom limb of cooking-cleaning-teaching-feeding-scolding-raising, her mind restless despite the fact that this is the part where she should be relaxing. Deep breaths drawn in and slowly let out, she reminds herself that there are three other adults present, that the older kids hardly even need minding these days, that she should save her mental energy for the busy week ahead. She closes her eyes. A few more deep breaths.

She feels a heavy weight drop down, disturbing the sand next to her. She cracks an eye and sees long golden limbs, glittering with salty water in the bright sun, a smaller-than-necessary bathing suit drawing her eye — nowhere. Nothing. Nowhere. Her eyes dart back up to meet Rhett’s, and she does not miss the smirk on his face. She ignores it.

“Enjoying the view?” he deadpans, only just holding a straight face, and gestures out to the horizon, where clear water meets a cloudless sky.

She rolls her eyes at him. “It’s fine, I guess.” She, too, struggles to keep the smile off her face. “A bit ostentatious, if you ask me.”

Rhett throws his head back in laughter, and her smile cracks, too. “If this scene doesn’t impress you, honey, I don’t know what will,” he says slyly. He shakes a bit with laughter, and she shakes her head. Despite the light-hearted exchange, her uneasy feeling persists. The breath she takes is a bit unsteady, and she swallows hard. His eyes drop to her throat. The skin between his eyebrows furrows.

He holds his sharp eyes on hers for a long moment. “You okay, Chris?”

She hesitates. “Yeah. Of course. Yeah.” She sighs at the disbelieving lift of one eyebrow. “I’m fine. Just … you know. Here but. Not.”

He presses his lips together and nods slowly. “It’s hard to turn it off, sometimes.” He knocks his knee against hers. “It’s alright. We’ve got all day.”

She nods, a little pink-cheeked. She turns back towards the water and her eyes scan the coast, making note of one, two, three, four, five blonde heads; she rolls her eyes at herself even as she does it.

They sit in silence for a moment, and Christy drifts a bit to the rhythm of the waves. Suddenly, there’s a shout to her left, and she turns her head sharply in its direction; Locke has Lincoln hoisted over his shoulder and is sprinting towards the water. She tenses until she hears Lincoln’s high giggles, sees his feeble attempts at freeing himself from Locke’s grasp. She settles and can’t help a small smile. She can’t help but feel like it’s like a vision from the past, two different boys, reveling in youthful freedom and wild joy. Her smile grows as she watches her son get thrown into the ocean like a sack of flour. He pops up seconds later, splashing water and trying to drag Locke into the surf. Their shrieking laughter echoes down the shoreline.

“Now that’s a pretty picture if I ever saw one.” She startles at the voice in her ear. Rhett is much closer to her than she thought; she can feel his breath on the side of her face. His sly grin is still firmly planted, and he nods towards the coastline. Christy swallows, and after a moment tears her eyes away.

She sees Link, Lando in his arms despite probably being too old to be held. Lando is clutching his dad for dear life, however, and Link’s arms are sure around him. Jessie stands next to them, one hand on Lando’s back, smile wide as the waves crash around her hips. The sunlight sparkles on the water, surrounding them with glittering diamonds.

Christy watches them a moment: how they look at each other, how they talk reassuringly to Lando, the ease in their movements and how they never once turn their bodies away from each other. Her breath catches in her throat, and her chest swells.

The feeling is compounded by movement next to her, Rhett clearly trying to be subtle in the way he’s rearranging his miles of limbs, shifting his backside closer to her chair despite the wide expanse of sand that spreads out in either direction. He brings his calf flush with hers, digs his foot into the hot sand, and doesn’t move again. She doesn’t turn her eyes from the three figures now digging in the soft wet sand right at the shoreline. She shifts, never turning her eyes, slumping a bit in her chair so more of her leg lays on the sand, bringing more contact with warm flesh.

Her heart pounds and the ocean roars and the feeling in her chest unfurls in an unwieldy way; she cannot get her grip around it long enough to figure out its shape and color. She just knows she feels bright and full, a sudden lightness. This is her place, and these are her people, and her husband’s best friend sits close enough so she can feel the chill of the water still clinging to his skin, and her best friend is pushing wet hair out of her husband’s eyes with a smile as dazzling as the shimmering shifting of the sea. The breath she pulls in is deep but steady, and she turns to her face to the bright sun, and feels the warmth cover over her, spread down her body and press her down with a sweet weight. She closes her eyes and feels peace.

 

**Summer**

Jessie feels the heat press into her from all sides; the fact that the sun’s been down for an hour means nothing to July in L.A., and everyone in her backyard is red-faced with it. Most of the kids are racing through the grass, recreating epic battles with pool noodles, and she’s glad the hammock she lays in is on the far end of the yard. Lando lays scrunched up her side, hairline damp and mouth slack in sleep. She should mind the warmth his small body gives off, but she doesn’t. One of his hands is fisted in her shirt, and she gently brushes her fingers through his hair. It’s not wavy, not like her boys’, so it slides through her fingers rather than curling around them; she closes her eyes, soaking up the feeling that at least one of them still wants to cuddle with her. She knows the days are numbered.

After a few moments, she feels rather than hears someone approach. A gentle hand lays on her shoulder, and a soft voice whispers, “Jess? You awake?”

She cracks one eye open at Christy. “Hmm?”

Lando lets out a soft snore.

Christy’s smile is fond and sweet. “How long has he been out?” She smoothes hair out of his face; their fingers brush through the soft strands.

Jessie opens both eyes. “Twenty minutes, maybe thirty? Your boy can’t hang, honey.”

Christy chuckles. “Can’t imagine where he got that from.” Her smirk fades into a soft grin. “I should bring him inside. Can I put him in Shep’s bed?”

Jessie nods, but doesn’t move her arms yet. She turns her nose into that mop of hair, breathes in that little boy smell, and nods again. “Yeah, of course.”

Moving a sleeping child from a hammock is not an easy feat, but this isn’t their first rodeo. Jessie shifts as needed and Christy wraps her arms all the way around him, and despite the dead weight, gets him up on her shoulder with only minimal trouble. Jessie watches as they slip into the house, and peers around the backyard again. The men have joined the pool noodle skirmish, and Lily’s slipped away somewhere. She had a book out before dinner and probably snuck off to finish it. Jessie closes her eyes again.

“Budge over.” Jessie jumps at the voice; she didn’t hear Christy come back. Christy laughs at her and says again, “Move over, I want in.”

Jessie shifts and tries to keep the hammock steady, but neither woman is particularly graceful, and she can’t help but giggle at the way Christy slides half of her body in while trying not to fall. “Stop laughing and help me!” Christy protests, but she’s giggling too, and by the time she makes it all the way in, the hammock is swinging wildly and the two women are hysterical with laughter. Jessie doubles over, wraps her arms around her stomach, presses her forehead against Christy’s shoulder as they fight to catch their breath.

Eventually their breathing returns to normal, breathy snickers still escaping, the hammock slowing to a gentle rock. Christy gently pats Jessie’s cheek, resting it there for a moment, thumb almost imperceptibly stroking her jawline. Jessie leans into it, still giggling.

For a while they swing there, Jessie resting on her side, curling into Christy not unlike Lando had curled up into her. She notices that the sounds coming from the backyard have changed; instead of boyish shrieks and the smack of pool noodles across bare skin, she hears a pulsing beat and an effervescent voice coming through her speakers. It takes her a moment to place it, but then —

“Who put Beyoncé on?” She looks up at Christy, quizzically.

Christy points her chin in the direction of the deck. “Who do you think?”

Jessie cranes her neck a bit, trying to see in the direction Christy indicated. She sees Lily laughing, dancing and mouthing lyrics as Locke and Lincoln throw themselves upon the wooden deck, howling in protest of the song choice. Jessie can’t help the way the side of her mouth slides up, and grows even wider as Link sweeps over and grabs Lily, twirling her around without regard to the rhythm of the song.

Jessie feels Christy’s shoulder shake beneath her, and Christy’s hand in her hair, twirling the strands around her fingers, smoothing it down across the crown of her head. They laugh in earnest as Rhett comes up behind Lily, sandwiching her between the two of them, long arms wrapping not only around Lily but across Link’s waist as well. Lily’s laughter carries across the yard, high and bright, and they spin and spin, making fierce eye contact over top of Lily’s head.

Jessie’s heart picks up a bit, and Beyoncé laments that they don’t have forever, that daylight’s wasting, and she sees Rhett’s hand cover Link’s, Lily still laughing between them, and does not miss Link’s smile grow wider as he twines their fingers together. Their faces are wide open and gleeful as Lily slides out from between them, long legs carrying her far across the grass before they even notice.

Her pulse roars in her ears, or maybe it’s Christy’s that reverberates beneath her head, as Christy’s hand runs down her arm, unhurriedly, until it rests on top of hers. Rhett’s smile falters a bit as Link moves away from him, quickly, smiling a bit too wide, hands clenching into nervous fists at his side. Jessie turns her hand over, slowly, deliberately, until Christy’s fingers rest in her palm. She grips Christy’s hand right, and as they lay there Rhett grabs Link and throws him over his shoulder, racing towards the pool. Link holds on, shouting, clearly trying for stern but transparently jubilant.

Christy shouts, “Rhett! Your back!” But her admonishment is ignored as he runs both of them headlong into the pool. Four more splashes follow, wild laughter filling the hot night air. Christy's shoulder is damp with sweat beneath Jessie’s cheek, and her hands are warm and steady, and something large and indistinguishable in Jessie’s chest takes flight, soaring up over them, out into the clear night.

 

**Fall**

Link is out of breath as he as he ascends a particularly steep set of steps, pulling up the rear of their group. Honestly, he’s not taking great pains to keep up with them. He read this morning that there are some wildfires burning, not close enough for them cancel their hike, not even close enough to detect any trace of them in the air, but his throat and eyes feel dry and itchy regardless. He knows he can’t really smell smoke, but he thinks he might anyway. His breath catches a bit in his lungs.

He’s sure that the initial plan for this hike today involved all of them, kids included, but somehow or another each child had peeled off into playdates or practice or being too cool to hang out with their parents, and the four adults decided decided to go without them. Link can’t remember the last time all four of them did anything without at least one child running underfoot; years, surely. It sets him a bit on edge, if he’s honest.

Link knows he can be a bit unobservant, in certain circumstances. It’s a characteristic that’s not lost on him. But he’s known these three long enough to see them; he knows their ins and outs and ups and downs; he knows their whys and hows.

He knows there’s something simmering, underneath the surface.

He’s slowed down enough that he can no longer see them over the crest of the trail. He stops completely for a moment, pulls a bandana from his back pocket and wipes sweat from his brow, overheated despite the unusually cool temperature. He stays there, in the middle of the long incline, catching his breath, eyes following the movement of clouds in the vivid blue sky. He shivers a bit. Fall came slowly, as it always does in L.A.; warm summer dripping viscous into September and October, only to have arrived sudden and crisp in the last few days. Link doesn’t remember the shift, only waking up shivering in his summer sheets.

“Hey, Neal! Catch up!” He’s pulled from his musing by Christy’s voice. He glances up and sees the three of them at the top of the staircase, looking down at him with bemused expressions on their faces. Jessie waves at him with a smirk.

“Took y’all long enough to stop chattering and notice you left me behind,” he yells up at them. He wipes at his temples again and shoves the bandana back in his pocket. He still doesn’t make a move to catch up to them.

Rhett rolls his eyes and begins to descend back down the staircase. “You two go ahead, I’ll stay with this one, make sure he doesn’t wander off.” He takes the steps two at a time, hands clenched around the straps of his backpack.

Christy and Jessie go ahead with barely a backwards glance, and are almost immediately out of sight. Link waits where he is, even knowing Rhett will have to come back up all these steps again. Yet as he approaches, he doesn’t seem irritated. His face is relaxed, towering over Link even more than normal from two steps above.

“Come on. There’s a rest point in about a quarter mile, no use stopping here.”

Link nods without looking Rhett in the eye, and they move up the staircase together. They walk side-by-side, at a quicker clip than Link had been traveling before. They don’t speak for a while, and the only sounds are their slightly labored breathing and the soft backdrop of outdoor noises.

Link can feel how close Rhett walks next to him, despite the width of the stairs. His left hand, now down at his sides, brushes Link’s elbow with every other step, their hips occasionally bump when they climb out of sync. Link knows Rhett's been closing all the spaces between them, over the years.

It was all fun and playful, and then suddenly it wasn’t.

Link can’t pin down the day, or the hour, but he knows there’s now a tension, intention, where before there was light-hearted banter. He finds he can’t play along as he once used to; he used to revel in the blush he brought to Jessie’s cheeks when he winked outlandishly at her, or Rhett’s sputtering at some playful innuendo. He can’t brush off the touches and lingering glances anymore.

Maybe it was always heading this way, and he pushed it forward without knowing it. He always did have trouble knowing where the line was, and had to backtrack after crossing it.

He doesn’t know if he can push this over the line, this time. The stakes feel a lot higher, the consequences a bit more dire than apologizing with his tail between his legs.

They’re approaching the crest of the slope when Rhett clears his throat to speak. “You know, the girls were talking earlier. They’re thinking about planning a vacation or something soon.”

Link keeps his eyes straight ahead, feet methodically climbing one step at a time. “Both families together?” He grips the straps of his pack tightly.

Rhett shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, well. Just the four of us. Jessie likes the idea of one of those resorts? Somewhere cushy we could just relax.” He clears his throat again. “Somewhere, you know, private.”

They reach the top of the hill before Link answers. They’re both panting, Link’s legs are aching, and he sees Jessie and Christy, waiting. They must have hung back slightly, not wanting to go too far ahead of them. Link keeps walking, keeps his eyes on the path in front of him.

“I don’t know, man. It sounds nice but. We’ve got a lot on our plates now, and there’s just a lot … happening. I don’t know if we can spare the time.”

It’s testament to how closely they’re walking that Link can feel how Rhett tenses at his words. “I hear you. We’re busy." He pauses. "But we’re always gonna be busy, you know? I think.” He pauses again, breathing out a sigh. “I think we can make the time, if we wanted to.”

Link can see Jessie and Christy up ahead, Jessie’s arm looped through Christy’s, ambling at an unhurried pace. They’re chatting animatedly, Jessie gesticulating emphatically with her free hand. Christy’s smile is tender as she watches her speak.

Rhett leans in a bit, voice quiet. “We could at least talk with them about it. Figure it out together.”

Now that they’re no longer climbing uphill, Link can feel the chill in the air more acutely. He shrugs his jacket closer up around his neck. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

Rhett is quiet for a long time. Their pace is slow, but it’s not easy. “Not the right time,” he finally repeats.

The sigh that comes out is more agitated than Link intends it to be. “Yeah, you know. There’s a lot to consider, with work, and … and with the kids. What would we do about them?” He takes in an unsteady breath. “It’d be nice but. Now doesn’t feel like the right time.”

Rhett presses his lips into a tight line. He’s silent, and his hips aren’t bumping Link’s anymore; his shoulders seem slumped in way they weren’t before. Link keeps his eyes straight ahead.

They reach the overlook in silence. Christy and Jessie are seated on large boulders, not speaking, simply taking in the view. Rhett comes up behind them and places a hand on each of their shoulders. Christy brings her hand up and gives Rhett’s a pat; she leaves it there, gently clasping his fingers.

Link stands a bit behind them, their figures obscuring the scenery in front of him. He’s still trying to catch his breath, wondering why the climb was so much tougher for him than it seems it was for them. Jessie turns around to look at him, and inclines her head, gesturing for him to come up and join them. Link tastes smoke in this throat.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Lily puts on in the Summer is XO by Beyoncé, because of course it is.
> 
>  [This is the trail they hike in the last scene](http://beagreencommuter.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/stairs.jpg), if anyone is interested. Thank you to Grey for finding me hiking trails near L.A.
> 
> Rennie, I hope this is a worthy Christmas offering. <3


End file.
